-X- X-Men: Foundations part 2: Changing World Summary Chapter 1: Bright Stars Chapter 2:Stand Still Chapter 3: Empire State University Chapter4: Distant Early Warnings Chapter 5: Brand Annex Chapter 6: Open Secrets Chapter 7: Change of Faith Chapter 8:Winter Breaks Chapter 9: Healing Breaks Chapter 10: Ice Skate Eve Chapter 11: Razor's Edge Chapter 12:Last Call Chapter 13: Thoughts Ignite Chapter 14: Red Tide Chapter 15: The Pass Chapter 16: Spring Breaks Chapter 17: Kid Gloves Chapter 18: Second Natures Chapter 19: Prime Movers Chapter 20: Moving Parts Chapter 21: Barriers Fall Chapter 22: Hand Over Hand Chapter 23: Hand Over Fist Chapter 24: Open Hand Chapter 25: Open Hand Closed Fist Chapter 26: Racing Heart -XX-
X-Men: Foundations part 2: Changing World
Chapter 17
-X-
Kid Gloves
Back at the Xavier Institute, Charles Xavier sat alone in his library. He found his thoughts drawn back to that long ago conversation that led him to the school’s founding, the evolution of a dream, and how important – even vital – Scott, Ororo, and Jean were to and would yet be to its ultimate success. He had just debriefed Jean on the events of earlier tonight. While worried about the threat, he was deeply proud of her handling of it. He also felt a strong need for caution, particularly with Jean. What happened tonight was far more than her struggle against a mysterious attack, and the repercussions of tonight would extend even further as Jean started to truly realize and more fully embrace the ever-expanding scope of her own abilities. From the very beginning he had walked this tightrope with Jean’s reluctance to embrace her abilities, at times pushing her to do more and at times encouraging Jean in a future that would pull her away from the Xavier Institute. Very gradually he had seen her begin to view those two paths as less divergent. No longer was she in a constant uphill fight against herself, her own desires and abilities pitched in an external battle of wills for her future path... but now, finally, Jean was beginning to emerge into a new struggle, one to truly understand herself in all that she wanted and all that she was capable of – and always to stay in control of those things. This, tonight, was a whole new inflection point. This was Jean Grey, not only more fully accepting her telepathic abilities but – for the first time since coming into her gifts – using her telepathy as a means to reach out to someone whom she cared for very deeply. That was an enormously powerful thing for a telepath. Charles Xavier knew how intense that emotional connection could be. For Jean, whose emotions already tended to burn brighter than most, he worried that the experience would be even more intense. He worried how the shift might affect her mental defenses, including the very same barriers he had once placed to protect her. He’d hinted to Jean in the past that going down this path would mean accepting even greater responsibility. Jean had been wary of the responsibility then, the greater agency required over her own mind and her own abilities; she still was. But for the first time in her young life, she was perhaps more intrigued than she was afraid. She was pushing forward now instead of always holding back. Xavier had very carefully cultivated his mentorship to Jean so that he could hope to guide her through these challenges. Likewise, Xavier had remained careful – especially in the early going – to closely guard his relationship to Scott. Xavier had never treated Scott with kid gloves; he knew Scott Summers was extraordinarily tough... but Xavier also knew his team leader’s weak spots. Scott had the tenacity of a pit bull and he had shown loyalty to match that tenacity, but he would not trust nor follow anyone blindly. Conversely, Scott didn’t expect anything from anyone, so whatever he received was met with deep and honest gratitude. Xavier had always recognized that trust and gratitude would be precious commodities with Scott. Once earned, it would take a lot to shake his trust. But if that trust was ever badly shaken, the loss would resonate deeply – possibly permanently and likely irreversibly. For those reasons, deeply emotional relationships would always pose a unique risk for Scott. All of that knowledge strongly shaped and colored Xavier’s impressions of tonight’s events. Moira MacTaggert found Xavier staring idly at the fireplace, a forgotten book propped open in his lap. He did not seem to hear her approach. She knew him well enough to read those tells; it took something very serious to so thoroughly distract him. “Charles,” she called. “Are ya alright?” “Moira. I’m glad you’re back. Please, come in.” “What’s the matter, Charles?” He smiled at her ability to see through him. “I just spoke with Jean. There was a worrying disturbance at the Grey home earlier tonight.” Xavier quickly relayed the details he had learned from Jean. “That sounds like some of Wyngarde’s handiwork.” “Yes,” Xavier conceded, “but it also seems well beyond the scope of Mastermind’s normal capabilities. I fear an older acquaintance may have played part in this particular attack.” Moira paled at mention of the name. “You think he’s using your students to get to you?” Xavier flinched at that possibility. “I almost wish that were the case; it would be far simpler if this was strictly a tit for tat between him and me.” “What makes you think it’s more than that? You once destroyed his work, ruined his reputation. Those are all he has, and all he ever cared for. Charles– he’s not a forgiving or forgetful man. It seems to me, this school, your students, would be an ideal means for him in seeking to avenge that debt.” “Yes, I don’t deny any of that,” Xavier acknowledged, “but there’s more. Something more I haven’t told you, about how Scott Summers came to us here. You know that Scott was orphaned after a plane crash killed his parents. He was seven years old at the time and he survived that ordeal, so far as I can tell, only because he was somehow able to use his mutant abilities to successfully slow his fall from the plane.” Moira nodded at those familiar details. “After that accident, Scott spent years in an orphanage in Nebraska. A facility run by a man called Pearson, owned by a man calling himself Nathan Milbury. And there, Scott was treated by a Dr. Nathaniel Essex.” Moira cursed bitterly. Xavier nodded in silent acknowledgment. “A seven year-old boy, possessing an extremely powerful early-onset mutation.” “O’course Essex would be wanting him,” Moira spat angrily. “The only question bein’, how much damage did he do to the child before he was discardin’ him?” “That question is a difficult one to answer. Scott’s mind was already damaged on impact after the plane crash. One would assume Essex’s intent was to find a way to control the onset of Scott’s optic blasts, despite any damage that already existed. As far as I know, Scott’s mutant abilities did not manifest again until the age of fifteen. That onset caused him great pain and the blasts have never again been within his physical control; how much of that is owed to the crash and how much might be owed to Essex’s manipulations, I can’t say... but it seems Essex still has interest in Scott. At the very least, he wants me to know that he can still cause Scott a great deal of pain and anguish if he chooses to do so.” She cursed again. “Tha’ man is a monster.” Xavier nodded, but his attention had returned to the flames in the fireplace. “Only tonight Scott was not undefended, as perhaps his attackers expected him to be while away from me. Jean was there and, from what she tells me, she fought off the attack– which affected the entire household, but focused the bulk of its intensity on Scott.” “Then it was good tha’ she was there,” Moira decided. “I’m not so sure of that,” Xavier said softly. “Good for Scott, and for everyone else there tonight,” he amended. “But,” Moira prompted. “What worries me even more than his continued interest in Scott is that, after what happened tonight, Essex will be more aware of Jean... and Jean’s powers are far greater than Scott’s. Her powers are far greater than Jean, herself, realizes. That could prove dangerous to her. Especially when dealing with a mutant as ruthless and immoral as Nathaniel Essex.” “I hope you might reconsider our previous talk, Charles. The best time to tell her what you have done would have been years ago. The next best time is right now.” Xavier forced a smile. “I wonder, would you mind asking Hank to come join us?” Moira complied, and a short time later Hank McCoy had been brought up to speed. “You are well familiar with his methods and thought processes, Hank. What’s your assessment?” Charles asked after all the facts had been relayed. “For lack of a better term, I’d call what he’s doing a stress test. Essex knows that Scott’s powers manifested early, under conditions of extreme psychological and physical distress. Perhaps he posits that by triggering latent memories of the same feelings and experiences over again, now that Scott’s powers have fully emerged....” “But what is he to gain?” Moira countered. “The boy cannot control the mutation; it’s unaffected by his physical or mental state.” “Never underestimate the appeal of cruelty for its own sake; Essex sees the world and everyone in it as little more than useful resources to be tapped for his experimentation.” “True, but I don’t think he wishes to break Scott, or even particularly to alert him – or us – to Essex’s presence or continued interest.” “That brings us back to scientific experimentation,” Moira concluded. Hank nodded grimly. “He must be trying to learn something about the specific workings of Scott’s mind and his mutation.” “Tomorrow might be a good time for a followup brain scan,” Charles prompted. Hank nodded. “I’ll run full diagnostics on all three of them when they arrive back here.” “A good idea,” Xavier confirmed.
-x-
Jean flashed them a bright smile when John and Scott walked downstairs to rejoin the rest of the family. She knew then that Scott was alright. John offered to go help Elaine in the kitchen while Scott sat down alongside Jean and Ororo on the living room sofa. The three of them took that opportunity to huddle privately out in the living room, while Jean quickly brought Scott up to speed on her and Ororo’s earlier discussions. He wasn’t at all surprised to learn that there had already been telepathic communication between Jean and Professor Xavier. “He’s coming here tomorrow morning,” said Jean. “Likely to make excuses to John and Elaine and to return us early to the Institute,” Ororo finished. Scott nodded in agreement. While he regretted that, it made sense. “Any new theories?” Ororo crossed her arms. “I suspect Shadow King. It would not be the first time he has weaponized our fears against us,” she stated. Jean shook her head. “I’m certain I would know it if I felt his presence again; I didn’t feel anything this time but our own fears.” “What else could possibly account for all of us having nightmares simultaneously?” Scott asked. “That must be some sort of psychic attack.” “That’s oddly managed too,” Jean noted. “Even D’Spayre never attacked us all at once.” “No. He preferred to pick us off one by one,” Ororo finished. “The group approach was less successful when he first attempted it in the Danger Room,” Scott agreed. “Even Xavier was surprised by this tactic. A group psychic attack– it’s not an easy thing to pull off. An attack like that normally requires reaching into the mind and pulling forward a specific set of fears. It would be a very complicated thing to do simultaneously, on five people.” “Not impossible though.” Scott assumed. “No, just very difficult, and more highly coordinated as a result. Xavier was more worried about an illusion that could be cast, thrown like a blanket, across a wider area.” “How likely is that?” “He says some mutants can do it. Widely project a psychic suggestion for fear or anger. Enough to insight panic or egg on a mob reaction.” “I assume sleep would make us more vulnerable to that type of an attack,” Scott considered. “Regardless of the means of attack, we are very lucky to have had Jean here to protect us,” Ororo concluded with a smile. Scott nodded in agreement. They broke up their impromptu conference (and spared Jean her embarrassment at their compliments) just as John and Elaine emerged from the kitchen bearing a tea tray and left over dessert. After that they all sat around the living room, sipping at tea and eating chocolate pie, fishing around for innocent conversation meant to make one another feel more at ease. After sufficient cooling down time had passed, John went back up to bed. Ororo too. Elaine assured John she would be up to bed as well, after she finished in the kitchen; she firmly refused to let anyone help this time. So Scott and Jean lingered in the living room over the last of their tea cups, until Jean finally flipped on the late movie. Scott grinned in relief. They were on the same page. As irrational as he knew it was, he had absolutely no desire to go back to bed. Honestly – even knowing what he knew now – Xavier’s suspicions of foul play notwithstanding, he was still more than a little afraid that he was coming completely unhinged. “Thank you– for what you did for me,” he finally broached the subject directly to Jean, next time they hit a commercial break. Jean shyly admitted that Professor Xavier had told her, what she’d done tonight had been very difficult. She suspected that fact was partly behind his sense of urgency in coming here tomorrow. Scott didn’t doubt the truth on either count, but he also wouldn’t put it past Jean to try to make him feel not so responsible for all this.... “It’s just... tonight... at least for me, those nightmares wouldn’t be so scary if they weren’t so real. If there wasn’t truth to them.” “But none of it was real, or true, Scott–” she reminded him stubbornly. He shook his head. “It could too easily happen, Jean,” he insisted softly. “Without the glasses, I’m a menace. A threat to everything and everyone around me. That’s never gonna change.” He sighed heavily. “Sometimes I really think I’d be better off – safer, at least – if I could be left completely alone.” Jean shook her head. “I don’t believe that Scott and, deep down, I don’t think you believe it either. If you did, you’d hide yourself away somewhere, like a hermit in the desert. You need to use your gift for good, because you see it as a gift, just like Xavier does. You know it’s not an accident that you can do what you do– and that you’re good at it; that’s no curse either.” Scott nodded in quiet acknowledgment. It still amazed him how Jean could always know what he needed to hear. Sometimes she knew him better than he knew himself... and it truly amazed him to realize that he was glad she did. He had seen and felt, firsthand, the strength Professor Xavier always insisted Jean possessed. When the people she cared about most needed help, she would always act without hesitation. But it was more than that too. It was her unrelenting capacity to care, with that same power and intensity, that same degree of strength and determination– she was incredible. “What you did. Feeling you in my head–” “I’m sorry–” she winced. “I know you don’t want–” “I’m not,” he told her bluntly. It was the truth. He wasn’t sorry, or mad, or even made the least bit uncomfortable. “You were amazing, Jean, and I’m glad you did what you did.” Jean smiled, genuinely relieved. She had been afraid that he might chafe against her intrusion on his mind. And while she couldn’t imagine him – or anybody else for that matter – wanting her presence in their head that way... she didn’t think she could take such an intensely personal rejection, not from him. She leaned forward impulsively and took hold of his hand. “Whatever that was, I wasn’t going to let it keep hurting you,” she responded. He smiled. “I know. That’s exactly what I mean.” They stayed there, holding hands. Scott realized after a moment there was light mental contact as well. He didn’t know if she was still doing that purposefully or instinctively, but it made him curious. This felt different, more than deliberate communication, no simple relay of thought and information. It was a more quiet sensation that he’d rarely experienced from her. Her thoughts always came with a distinct imprint of Jean: her spirit, her personality, her mind... and he wondered if she felt the same from him when he was just sitting here quietly. Scott focused his thoughts for a moment, as the professor had taught them to do when communicating mentally. What do you feel from my mind? he asked her curiously. Jean smiled again and closed her eyes. His mind was calm and focused; she knew that. Most minds were cluttered and chaotic – so overrun with thought and emotion, it was often uncomfortable for her to touch them. It sometimes felt nearly impossible for her to keep her hold on her own mind and identity in the face of that... like if she wasn’t careful she’d be lost in the chaos. But Scott’s was different. It wasn’t just training from the professor; that was part of it, but it was also Scott. His thought process was different. More streamlined. As much as she liked to tease him about his exhaustive worries and excessive planning, his head tended to operate like an overstuffed library. Always busy, but with everything kept neatly in its own place. Always calm and focused and bustling quietly along on countless divergent trajectories. She thought of his enhanced spatial awareness (the uncanny way he could so easily focus in on visual-spatial relationships: the ability to see all the angles and the spaces in his environment, and instantly understand how they interconnected). Of course it made sense, considering his ability to manipulate the optic blasts, or to effortlessly bank pool shots, but Scott saw the rest of the world that way as well. Always solving problems and watching the way things connected together around him. Always trying to figure out the next challenge. His mind was perfectly suited to his abilities, and his unique personality grew out of that... its own perfect little miracle of evolution. His thoughts– She let down her defenses a bit more, reassured now that his mind was once again back to its normal calm pool and would neither swamp hers nor leave him vulnerable to her own. Scott smiled as he felt her relief. Then happiness. She was glad to feel him now removed from the earlier turmoil that had engulfed him. Scott saw an image of calm after a storm in her comparison to what she felt now versus what she had fought through trying to get to him earlier. Beyond that, Jean deliberately kept her mental contact light; she didn’t want to invade or intrude on his thoughts, memories, or emotions. It was enough just to skim the surface for a glimpse of him, an impression of his mind in this moment. That answered his earlier question. What she was doing wasn’t completely intentional; a great deal of it was purely instinctive, but when she did act deliberately it was done with great care and caution. They stayed like that for a few minutes. It felt strangely familiar, even comforting. And there was no more need to speak or make conversation than when they were simply watching the same movie together. It was enough just to sit quietly in the refuge of each other’s presence... enjoying the same moment in each other’s company.... Until Elaine came bustling back into the room. Then the two of them quickly broke apart and set about returning their finished dishes to the kitchen.
-x-
Scott lingered downstairs, remaining in the kitchen once most of the dishes were clean and dried, finally pouring himself the last of the tea and sitting down again at the kitchen table. He still felt too keyed up to try to sleep, and not really keen on the idea of closing his eyes and not remembering those nightmare images all over again. Jean rested a light hand on his shoulder. “You want company?” “You don’t have to stay.” While grateful for the offer, Scott insisted he’d rather be alone for a little while. “I’m gonna sit up, for just a little longer– if that’s alright with your mom,” he amended. Elaine was still hovering worriedly around the kitchen. “That’s fine, Scott; I’ll just turn the kettle back on for you.” “I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” Scott protested. He’d already caused Elaine and John enough trouble tonight. “I know you don’t, dear; it’s no trouble at all,” Elaine insisted. She watched Jean give his shoulder a pat before Jean excused herself to go watch the late movie instead. Scott smiled, absently running a hand through his hair. He knew where Jean would be if he changed his mind about wanting to be alone. Elaine refilled the kettle and added a fresh bag of tea. Over the past three years John and Elaine had watched Scott and Ororo grow up just as they’d watched Jean grow up. Together, the three of them had traversed their awkward teenage years and begun to emerge into confident young adulthood. She and John couldn’t be any prouder of Scott or Ororo than they were of Jean and Sarah. But sitting alone, shoulders slumped as his forearms rested on the kitchen table, hands curled idly around his mug, Elaine couldn’t help remembering the boy Scott Summers had been the first time she and John had laid eyes on him. Far removed from the strong, confident young man he was now... Scott had looked far younger than his fifteen years. Tall and thin (like the rest of his body hadn’t had enough time – or seen enough decent meals – to catch up with his rapidly increasing height). And no matter how hard he’d tried to cast himself as independent and self-sufficient, something about him had remained – at least to Elaine’s eye – deeply and unquestionably vulnerable. “I’m sorry,” Elaine said simply, sitting down opposite him. Scott glanced up, surprised, and obviously puzzled by her apology. “Why should you be sorry?” he asked. Elaine smiled. “Oh? That’s the second time one of my silly overreactions have hurt you,” she explained with characteristic impatience for her own misstep. “The first time it was more of an honest misunderstanding, but I really should know better by now,” she decided. She placed her hand on his, slowly, fair warning. That momentary caution was something that would never have crossed her mind a couple of years ago. “And that’s inexcusable,” she finished quietly, giving his hand an affectionate pat. Scott only shook his head. He didn’t know what to say. “It’s not your fault. My–” he trailed off, then tried again. “I startled you earlier... and before–” he swallowed hard at the old memory. He knew exactly the one she was talking about. Christmas. The first year Scott and Ororo had spent their holidays with the Greys. The house had been full of family, and Elaine had humored him for much of the evening by letting Scott help her in the kitchen. That way he didn’t have to muddle through making uncomfortable conversation with the visiting Grey relatives... and that had worked for a while. Then he had gotten too comfortable, let his guard down when he shouldn’t have. Elaine had treated him with her usual playful familiarity, no differently than she would have treated her brothers or one of her nephews, giving Scott a quick hug and a couple of light pats to his cheek. Scott had become familiar enough with her demonstrative nature to expect the hug, but when Elaine had unexpectedly touched his face Scott had jumped back like he’d been scalded. She had apologized to him then too, framing her apology to let him know she understood he was cautious about his glasses, and assuring him that she would be more careful to remember that in the future. Scott had accepted the apology; she did know he was sensitive about his glasses, and she probably realized that touching his face without warning was something she shouldn’t have done... but she also knew his reaction had been more than that. They both knew it had been more.... “I just didn’t know how to react then,” Scott said quietly. “Everything here was still so new to me, and I was still seeing things the wrong way... the way they were before I came to the Institute.” The truth was that, with the Institute, and again with the Greys, Scott kept learning how wrong everything before had been. How wrong he had been to accept so many of the things he had seen in his youth as acceptable. And now it seemed his brain was too often determined to remind him of that in the most distressing, disorienting ways possible with these incessant nightmares. He found that realization increasingly frustrating. Scott shook his head helplessly. “Why can’t I just leave the past in the past?” “Maybe all this just takes time, Scott. Things we took years to build up can’t always be undone overnight just because we want to undo them. We learn new things, and it still takes time for our brains to figure out the changes. It’s all reflex and muscle memory, even in our thoughts, right? And sometimes we have to get ourselves into a safer place, a better frame of mind, before our brains can start working all that out. What we’ve been through in the past, enough to sort out the good from the bad, enough to let go of the bad and keep moving forward with the good.” “I want to keep moving forward, and it feels like I’m caught in a loop, repeating the same parts of my life that were hardly worth living the first time through. Except now I’m messing everything up here, for all of you, and not just for myself.” Elaine sighed, squeezing his hands tightly for an instant. “You’re a special young man, Scott– and I mean that in ways that have nothing to do with those glasses. You’re precious to everyone in this house; that means we all want you here, and want you to feel at home here.” It took him a couple of moments to process that statement. In the meantime, Elaine stood and finished putting away the dry dishes... giving him those few moments with his thoughts. “Come here,” she insisted once she had finished that task. “Let me have a look at you.” Scott obediently stood. He knew the drill, this compromise they’d seemed to have settled on. As expected, Elaine hugged him in her quick, familiar way. After that, he fully expected that she would cup his chin in her hands so she could study his face. That had worried him immensely the first few times she’d done it, but he had gotten used to it, just as he had gotten used to her hugs. Elaine did hug Scott, then cupped his chin in her hands. She didn’t know if he’d ever entirely get past his aversion for letting her do that, but she kept at him anyway. Elaine no longer saw his reactions to her as anything so simple as a win or a loss but as something of a private conversation between them. Every time they went through this silly routine, she had a new opportunity to show him that she was willing to meet him halfway if he could do the same for her. But this time felt different. “Scott.” Elaine paused and hugged him again, not the way she normally did. This time it wasn’t quickly or casually, almost without thought. “Try to remember that not everything is your fault,” she implored him. And Elaine Grey held him tightly for a long moment. She suspected that blaming himself for everything bad that happened in his life was something Scott had been doing for a very long time... and even now it was a hard habit for him to break. Scott gave a cautious nod and swallowed hard before he whispered, “Yes, ma’am.” A couple of moments passed before Elaine stood back from him and smiled again. She couldn’t resist placing an affectionate hand to his cheek before she let him go. Scott was still a bit too restrained for her liking. He didn’t easily let down his guard or let people get close to him, not physically and not emotionally... but his smile did often come easier now. Elaine studied him for several moments, with such affection that Scott had to wonder what she could possibly be seeing. Finally, he smiled back at her. “There you are,” she said, finally satisfied with his reaction. “Good night, Scott,” she said softly. He stayed unnaturally still, barely even breathing, until she did draw her hand away from his face. But he determinedly allowed Elaine her well-meaning transgression. “Good night, Mrs. Grey.” Out in the living room, Scott heard Elaine’s parting admonition to Jean, “Don’t stay up too late, dear.” “I won’t, Mom,” Jean reassured her. The quiet reply was likely muffled by Elaine’s hug. Jean then added, “Now stop fretting and go get some sleep.” Elaine only gave her a quiet, “humph” in reply. That made Scott smile too.
-x-
Elaine walked slowly upstairs, back to bed, but her thoughts remained downstairs. Scott hadn’t said much about what had happened earlier tonight, but that was nothing unusual. Scott was the type who believed actions spoke louder than words, and he tended to avoid talking about himself at all costs. Elaine tried to tell herself that, in the wake of those nightmares and after losing his glasses, he was probably feeling the need to be cautious even more acutely than usual. She told herself all of that was perfectly understandable. All of those factors likely played a part in his behavior, but only a part. That mixture of caution and restraint that Scott wore like armor had likely protected him for a very long time. She had always known those old instincts wouldn’t go away overnight. But, just like years ago, both of them knew there was more to his reactions than their present circumstances could explain. She wondered who had hurt him, how badly, and how long ago. For a long time after that first Christmas, what had happened in her kitchen hadn’t made sense to Elaine. And even though she had tried not to dwell on it, Scott’s reactions to her then had continued to weigh heavily on her. Then one day, weeks later, she’d been working in the house. The television was playing, some show she was only half paying attention to, an old western. The captured hero was waiting around to be rescued, being taunted by the villain who smiled and harmlessly patted his face; it wasn’t even a slap. Once. Twice. Then he punched. Elaine didn’t know why she screamed. Still, years later, she got a catch in her throat just thinking about that moment. Maybe it was the suddenness of realization, or the awful way her imagination so easily latched on to an image of Scott’s face. The fresh, vivid understanding making Elaine feel physically and emotionally sick: where kindness and acceptance had been foreign behaviors to Scott, obviously mistreatment was not. From that moment forward Elaine had felt certain: Scott had faced down more than one beating in his lifetime. Scott was a quiet, considerate young man: warm, generous, charming. She couldn’t imagine him purposefully hurting anyone, nor could she wrap her head around the fact that anyone would want to purposefully hurt him... and yet someone clearly had hurt him. The very thought of it turned her stomach and made her heart ache for the small, defenseless boy he had once been. Scott wasn’t that little boy anymore... but those scars cut deep, and they remained. Elaine took a deep breath, remembering just a few minutes ago, the way he determinedly held still as she touched him... and earlier in the night, when he had winced and ducked his head at something as innocent as her simple expression of shock. The way Jean had moved to shield him. The events of tonight shared one thing in common with those of three years ago: the boy staring at her in stunned confusion. His reaction was always the same: he waited. He waited with the quiet certainty of someone who knew he could endure the worst. He understood, no matter what happened to him, no matter how badly it hurt him... it would pass. In perhaps the greatest of ironies, he had means to fight back now. Right now, he possessed overpowering deadly force. All he had to do was open his eyes. Tonight, her gasp had been enough to stop him cold. The damage he was now capable of inflicting– that terrified him more than anything else... and that was why Jean hadn’t listened to his warnings when she rushed into his room, into his nightmares. Jean knew she wasn’t in any danger because Scott wasn’t going to open his eyes. Not until it was safe. He would wait in the dark, surrounded by his own worst fears, helpless and blind. He would wait for that, too, to pass, and when it was safe he would open his eyes. Scott was the type who believed actions spoke louder than words. Elaine understood that language. Every time they went through their silly routines, hugs and smiles and deliberate little gestures – she had never been so deliberate with anyone in her life as she was with Scott – because she had figured out, standing in her kitchen years ago, that he was willing to give her that chance. Completely unearned and totally unwarranted. And from Elaine’s point of view, each new interaction was a fresh promise. Every time he was willing to be still for her, she could very deliberately say to him: I see you; I accept you. And no matter what happens, I am not going to hurt you. She had always known it would take a while for him to hear that, and even longer for him to really trust it. But every time he was willing to give a little – a smile or a touch or just a quiet moment of stillness – that made her deeply happy. Elaine honestly loved to see that boy smile. She could imagine for an instant that she was seeing him as he was before all that caution and restraint had set in, before life had so cruelly and unfairly mangled him– and she dearly loved that precious boy.
-x-
Scott finished his third cup of tea and he still had no desire to go back to bed. Or, more precisely, he had no desire to lie awake concentrating on seemingly simple tasks like trying to master his breathing and heart rate. Fighting off the drowning sensation of failing self-control. The most recent variation on that theme was a persistent feeling that his entire chest had begun vibrating incessantly while he was simply lying still... like some bored cosmic entity had begun using his chest cavity for its bass guitar. Lack of control over his sleep with the nightmares was bad enough. Inability to control his own waking mind: lying awake, preoccupied by his thoughts and fears– that was pretty bad too. But not being able to successfully regulate his body’s overblown physical reactions to the panic and anxiety– that complete breakdown of internal sense and logic was somehow worse. To Scott’s way of thinking, he should have at least been able to count on his lungs and heart to keep running on autopilot, no matter how messed up his head was at the moment. It was around one a.m. when he rinsed out his tea cup and padded barefoot back out into the living room, conceding defeat. He was glad to be able to sit next to Jean on the living room sofa and watch the late, late movie, no further explanation needed... until finally his eyes felt so heavy that he closed them. Jean stayed awake until he fell asleep and she gently tossed a blanket over him. Don’t worry. She leaned forward to brush her hand against his forehead then thought better of it; she didn’t want to startle him awake. Goodnight, Scott, she whispered instead, settling for the light mental contact instead of a physical one. If she could have, she would have pushed his hair back from his face and softly kissed the top of his head goodnight. Instead she let him sleep. Jean stayed awake. Partly watchful, partly thoughtful, but mostly making sure that Scott slept peacefully, as did the rest of the house under her mental watch. This was hardly the first time she had gotten a full dose of Scott’s fears. Even when they were kids, she’d been able to feel a familiar pain and anguish beneath the all-together front and cool exterior Scott purposefully presented to the rest of the world. She understood it, like looking in a mirror of her own experiences. They both had come into their gifts too soon, too early to be able to control them... and they had both been altered by the trauma of that experience. Time and again, she hadn’t thought she’d wanted to connect to anyone in the ways she connected to Scott. But Scott was different. She could control it when her focus was on him. That was partly because she knew she had to; there was no room for overstepping her boundaries with Scott. Scott needed control over his own mind, he needed the seclusion of his own thoughts and the power of his own decisions. He needed to retain that internal autonomy after having been consistently denied autonomy in almost every other way throughout most of his childhood. She wouldn’t blame him, knowing all that, if he didn’t want a telepath anywhere near his head. But time and again, Scott chose to welcome her – not just her efforts or her communication, not simply her helping him or working in tandem with him – but her very presence. Somehow she had connected to him in a way she’d never purposefully connected to anyone, with a personal and intimate connection, touching his mind and sharing hers with him in return. Scott had responded to that by trusting and supporting her in kind, and that made it safe for each of them. Jean was awake and alert until it was nearly light and the house started to stir around them. She’d dozed a little from time to time... but passed the hours mostly thinking about her and Scott. Jean knew she was in way too deep already, but she no longer wanted to retreat out of fear or self-doubt. That deep well of safety and closeness between the two of them made her feel more whole than anything she had ever felt in her life... and she only wanted more of that feeling. The problem was, it didn’t end there. The safety and closeness was matched with a whole new level of deepening infatuation for Scott, along with her already caring for him as intensely as she’d ever felt for anyone in her life. Those feelings were intoxicating and she wanted nothing more than to be lost in them.... The only thing that really gave her pause was not knowing what Scott felt. Did he feel, or want, any of those things from her the same way she wanted them from him? Or was he really content just keeping himself afloat, drifting safely along in the harbor of their friendship? She kept her mental contact with Scott, lightly monitoring his sleep as she stood and yawned and stretched, awake. Still carefully guarding over him. She turned off the TV and returned to her own room, to let him gradually wake and do the same. Xavier would be here for them soon.